The Facade
by kajamiku
Summary: Eyes x Ayumu. No matter how hard he tries, Eyes cannot escape both truth and fate. Shounenai, angst. Written while listening to “Far Away” by Nickelback.


**Summary/Notes:** No matter how hard he tries, Eyes cannot escape both truth and fate.  
Shounen-ai, angst. Written while listening to "Far Away" by Nickelback. Eyes x Ayumu.

**Disclaimer:** Neither "Spiral" or the sound attributed to this fic belong to me.

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**The Façade: **

He would take Ayumu to concerts.

He would allow the music to wash over him, but his gaze would remain on his companion; a fixed stare, lacking subtlety, that looked as if he were afraid the boy would disappear otherwise.

He would take Ayumu to the park.

He would walk the pavement with his brown-eyed genius, hand in hand. Their hands without gloves, as if they did not feel the cold surrounding them.

He would invite Ayumu to his apartment.

They would sit on the couch, or at the piano, and talk for hours; the time vanishing, the sun setting quicker than either anticipated.

He would meet Ayumu at the gates as he left school.

He would ignore the stares and move to kiss his love, drawing the teen away from everyone else; keeping him for himself.

The impediments were gone, the barriers knocked down; crumbled beneath their bond. Nothing would keep them away; there would never be anything that kept them apart.

…Of course, it was a dream.

No matter how much he wanted it, or how much he ran these thoughts through his head, Eyes Rutherford knew his fate.

The fate that he could not escape, just as he couldn't change the seasons.

That fate that showed him this beautiful vision of hope, and then pulled him away; waving him just out of Eyes' reach.

Nothing mattered anymore; it had no value if it was not that person. His appetite had sadly dwindled further, drawing the attentions of Rio and Kousuke, but their efforts made no difference.

His soul was fading, why shouldn't his body do the same?

He walked the streets at ungodly hours, getting lost in the crowds and hoping his emotions would do the same.

He looked into shop windows and saw Ayumu standing next to him, only to meet silence and absence when he turned around.

He sat on park benches and stared at the pavement, his skin paling further in the nipping chill of winter.

He thought of nothing else.

Eyes wandered over to Ayumu's side of town, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive phantom of his soul. He stood hidden outside the school and watched the boy descend the steps, deep in thought or speaking with Hiyono. He followed the brunette home and watched him disappear.

It hurt more each time Ayumu vanished from his sight.

But Eyes kept his cloak of indifference; hiding behind sunglasses, behind music, behind anything that could sufficiently conceal this unbearable pain.

He kept his routines, spoke little and spent his time gazing into the distance; lost in his thoughts, in brown eyes, and his imaginary lover.

Eyes refused to leave Japan. Tearing more distance between them couldn't possibly help with this problem; it could only hurt more.

So he remained.

He stayed in one place, he wasted away and watched the days slip past in a flurry of routines and masks and seasons.

He thought of things that weren't to be. He thought of things he should do, things he couldn't. He thought of yesterday and the day before, and the day before that… he could see no future. Not for him.

In the first weeks it had been rationalisations; they couldn't be together because of one thing, and then the next, and the next, and the next… There was no truth harsher than this. They were not meant to be together.

Eyes was not meant to hold him. No one was meant for him.

He could rage, and brood, and wish for a better life; but in the end, what would change?

Whenever a light began to appear, all he had to do was touch the place where he could feel the absence of a rib, and everything would tumble away into shadow again.

And that's where he would stay. Watching his love from darkness; a living ghost, a mortal shadow, a broken doll beyond mending.

He would sit at his piano and play; play as if the music embodied his entire soul. But, truthfully, that was impossible. His soul did not belong to him anymore. He could play behind the façade for as long as he needed to, but his soul was not in it.

His soul did not belong to him.

His soul belonged to someone else.

And until that person returned it, the façade was all he had.


End file.
